


Crossing Paths

by jeepster



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeepster/pseuds/jeepster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HG Wells had crawled into her veins that day, even as she'd held a Tesla to Pete's head. Myka had felt so exposed, so taken in and measured as those dark eyes glittered at her. And flattered as HG had parted her lips in a dangerous ghost of a smile as she looked her up and down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Paths

**Author's Note:**

> This started as I was limbering up to write a fix-it fic for 04x15 by writing some canon scenes from the show.
> 
> But the last one continued into some non-canon stuff, so I thought I would share till I get my first real WH13 fic done.

**Atlas House**

If only she'd known that falling off that ceiling was just the beginning of the pain this woman would cause her. The least of it by far.

HG Wells had crawled into her veins that day, even as she'd held a Tesla to Pete's head. Myka had felt so exposed, so taken in and measured as those dark eyes glittered at her. And flattered as HG had parted her lips in a dangerous ghost of a smile as she looked her up and down.

From that moment on Myka's thoughts about her favorite author got more and more confusing. She'd never looked at a woman like she looked at HG. Perhaps because a woman had never looked at her that way first. She was in her dreams almost every night, like a piece of furniture that wouldn't fit through the door of her mind. How had she gotten in there?

****

 

**Tamalpais University**

When they met again it was all aggression and betrayal and sparks and heated looks. Myka had pinned her against the wall, hand around her neck, making red marks on that pale neck, Claudia looking on in– horror? Fascination? Eventually, worry, as Helena wasn't trying to get out of her grasp and Myka showed no signs of letting go. She was cutting off HG's air supply, but she was the one sweaty and breathless.

"Myka!" Claudia finally spoke up. Myka came back from wherever she was and let go, turning away, hiding her face. Her physical dominance had failed to gain her the upper hand. HG returned to her smug, flirtatious self seconds later. She wasted no time securing her hold on Myka with her smiling eyes and confidence and stepping far into her personal space– Myka realized she was standing there, eyes wide, lips parted, as HG told her she knew she wasn't going to shoot her.

And then HG stepped out the door to flirt with a person of interest in their investigation.

Myka was annoyed, but not with HG. Rather with herself. For her thoughts and pulse that had raced as HG had stepped so close to her she could smell her perfume, could see the locket on her porcelain collarbone, started to count the freckles that graced her clavicle, picture her own lips pressed against the soft place just under her open collar.

Her train of thought derailed violently as she caught herself. God, what must Claudia think of her?

****

 

**Egypt**

Myka was incredulous as HG slowly unbuttoned her long trench coat to reveal a skin-tight tank and shorts. She was staring shamelessly and Helena was more than aware. "What?" she'd asked, cheekily."I checked, this is what fashionable British archaeologists are wearing nowadays."

"No, it's what American filmmakers think fashionable British archaeologists are wearing nowadays," Myka explained, her face heating slightly as her eyes lingered.

"Oh," said Helena, and Myka's breath caught in her throat as Helena reached up to touch her arm. "Well, it is ever so comfy."

And she walked away with a swagger. And Myka was so caught up in her she couldn't help the happy grin that spread across her whole face and warmed her chest. Helena G. Wells was flirting with her and she'd never enjoyed anything more in her life.

Myka shook her head, then hurried to follow the retreating inventor. "Wait! HG!"  Helena didn't respond, but a second later she ducked into a tent with a smoldering backward glance. Myka stopped in front of the tent flap and collected herself. She tried not to ask herself what she was doing as she reached up to move the tent door aside. 

Helena stood waiting in the middle of the empty tent. "Myka," she said.

"HG," Myka said,, still holding the tent flap aside, feeling dumb. And frightened. Where had that come from? Why was she scared?

She glanced down at her hand, which shook. She remembered the way Helena's hand had caressed hers earlier as they made their way through the tents. She stepped inside and dropped her eyes to her feet and her hand to her side, but still held the tent flap slightly open behind her.

Helena dipped her gaze to catch Myka's.

"Your hands are shaking," said Helena quietly, sounding concerned.

Myka didn't look up.

"Do I make you nervous, darling?"

Myka let out a short laugh as she continued to look down at her feet.

"I do. I knew it," Helena gently laughed with her. "You're still holding the door open."

Myka let go of the tent flap and it settled closed. The tent was darker now.

"That's better."

Helena took a step closer, and Myka leaned forward at the waist as if to step forward but her feet were glued to the ground. She shook her head.

"What is it?" Helena asked.

"Just… what are we doing here?"

Helena smiled gently. "Nothing you don't want to, but …"

She stepped closer to Myka and this time Myka stepped too. She felt Helena's hand at her elbow, gently brushing her knuckles against her.

"I hate that I make you nervous, Myka," Helena said, tilting her face up to capture Myka's eyes and holding them with an earnest stare.

Her honesty made Myka want to return it. "I like it when you say my name."

Myka reached up and caught HG's hand. "HG,  I–"

"Please, call me Helena." Helena intertwined her fingers with Myka's and caressed her thumb.

Myka's breathing became shallow. "Helena, then."

"What is it, Myka?" Helena drew her name out like the string on a bow. Myka was caught in her predatory gaze.

"What you do to me, I…"

"Yes, Myka?" Helena's lips curled around her name.

"I can't help myself," Myka breathed.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea." Helena whispered as she raised herself onto her toes and gripped Myka's arm. Even as Myka tilted her mouth downward to meet Helena's, her hands went rigid in nervousness, splaying her fingers stiffly in the air at the level of Helena's hips.

Myka couldn't bear to close her eyes as they kissed; she couldn't get outside herself even as she melted into Helena. _What was she doing?_ She forced her hands to relax and instinctively moved them down to the soft curve of Helena's hips. Helena kissed her long and soft and sweet but just as soon as Myka began to kiss back, she felt Helena's lips part into a smile and pull back slightly. Myka bent down to rest her forehead on Helena's and watched her dimples deepen. "Myka," Helena breathed again with her eyes closed, pulling her hands up and encircling her fingers around the back of Myka's neck, under the hot curtain of curls. "I've been wanting to do that ever since you pulled a gun on me the first time."

Myka laughed, breathing out sharply through her nose. "I know."

Helena opened her eyes narrowly upwards and smirked. "I rather thought you had similar ideas, darling."

"All right," Myka glanced off to the side and squeezed her hands on HG's hips. "You caught me."

"I certainly did," HG said, and leaned forward to catch Myka's bottom lip with her teeth.

Myka tightened her fingers around HG's hips and pulled away from her teasing kiss. She closed her eyes tightly and sucked in a breath, then kissed HG hard, running the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. HG parted her lips willingly and brought her hands around from Myka's neck to her collarbone, open-palmed caresses stopping just above Myka's breasts. Myka's hands traveled along HG's hips and stomach, her thumbs caressing her bottom ribs delicately. They kissed with an urgency Myka'd never felt.

She moved her hands down to the back pockets of Helena's jeans and slid her fingers in, pulling Helena's whole body into hers hip-first, enjoying the feel of their curves together, of Helena's chest against her own. She wanted to press her against a wall, but there wasn't one that wasn't made of cloth, and she would have no idea what to do with Helena once she got her there.

Myka moaned into Helena's mouth in frustration and felt Helena smile indulgently in return. "Oh, I know, Myka, there's never time when we most want–"

Light broke into the twilight of the tent.

Myka pressed a kiss into the corner of her mouth without noticing anything, till Helena broke away to turn her head. Myka opened her eyes heavy-lidded and slow and turned to follow Helena's gaze.

In the doorway stood Regent Valda.

"It's time to go," he said quietly, his face a mask. HG's hands slowly slid down from Myka's neck, and Myka quickly pulled hers out from Helena's back pockets, her face afire. She stepped back from Helena as if that would alleviate her embarrassment, only to find her shirt clung to her, soaked with their mingled sweat in a dark line down her front.

"We'll discuss this once we've taken care of Warehouse 2. Count on it."

"Yes sir," said Helena, with mock deference. Myka couldn't look up from her shoes.


End file.
